Clockwork
by microlm
Summary: The girl, hidden in a high tower, who only dreams of seeing the world. The young man who only dreams of overthrowing the government. A deal is struck.  AU, loose parody of Tangled
1. Prologue

A/N: Alright, so I saw this fanart with characters from _Layton_ parodying those from _Tangled _and…the idea stuck! So, this fic is rather loosely mirroring the plot of _Tangled_ although there are definitely certain plot points that are very different.

Disclaimer: Professor Layton and all its characters are property of Level – 5.

- Prologue -

_ It started with knowledge._

_ Then technology naturally followed._

_ At first there was envy._

_ Then fear._

_ Suspicion._

_ Anxiety._

_ And what sort of good can come from all that?_

Once upon a time, in a distant land, there was a kingdom, Mystere, with technology far superior to any of those near it. It was the scientific center of the region and geniuses poured into it to take advantage of the liberal funds Mystere gave for research.

New inventions entered into the lives of the kingdom's citizens almost daily.

A new box which could smoothly knead great amounts of dough for the baker.

A more efficient heating system for the families.

A new clock with clockwork much more whimsical than the model before it.

A small child of gears that could open and close its mouth and slowly move its limbs.

The citizens were, for the most part, not displeased. Sure, some machines worked out like a thing of nightmares, but with so many new inventions, some errors were to be expected before the inventions were perfected. Besides, the most dangerous of experiments were kept far from their homes. All that the citizens could see of the more catastrophic failures were a little poof of smoke in the distance, a few miles behind the castle.

The neighboring kingdoms eyed this kingdom with a green eye. It wasn't as though Mystere didn't share its knowledge…years and years after it had been perfected! They craved to be the first to discover _something_, not merely to be those who received handouts, and outdated ones (by Mystere's standards) at that!

And that eye was also wary.

Miles behind the castle, deep within the walls of the laboratory, there was a small faction of researchers dedicated to the machines of war.

Strange, long tubes that used black powder to project a tiny a ball of lead out of it at speeds that by far surpassed the crossbow.

A mechanical dragon that spouted fire from its snout.

A tower of clockwork that could batter the walls around any city.

And there were talks of an army made of clockwork as well, but the head researcher of that group soon quit the project and nothing came of the idea.

The king of Mystere came from a long line of kings of the Reinhold family. He was a kind enough ruler and quite content with the size of his kingdom, but he was also wise and wary. He thought (perhaps not incorrectly) that without the proper weapons to defend the admitted rather small kingdom, Mystere would surely be invaded quickly and destroyed overnight. Doubly so when the kingdom held such tantalizing amounts of knowledge.

After all, did both those within and out of Mystere not call the research centers the Golden Apple?

Yes, the king was wary, even as he sat in his throne, surrounded by thick, stone walls.

That is not to say, however, that he was miserable.

The queen of Mystere, Violet, was a lovely, intelligent woman, and the king could not be more in love with her.

From their happy marriage came a wonderful daughter who they named, Flora.

That is not to say, however, that they lived happily ever.

After Flora's birth, Violet became confined to her bed, barely able to sit up. Despite her protests, the queen was not even able to see her daughter, who the doctors claimed would cause too much stress for her.

The king was desperate. He saw that his wife would die if he didn't find a way to help her regain her strength.

For a cure, the king consulted the greatest genius in the land. The genius' name was Bruno, a man who combined the sciences with magic to perform miracles. The king hoped that Bruno would be able to perform one for him.

The two discussed the matter behind closed doors, away from even the closest of the king's advisors. Once, loud shouts were heard and advisors noted that the king seemed extremely anxious when he exited the room. Bruno followed, shaking his head sadly, muttering, "That's the most I can do, I'm afraid."

Days passed, and the queen grew sicker and sicker. All the while, the king grew drearier and drearier.

Then one day, upon entering the room with Bruno, the king gave a cry of despair and immediately closed the doors behind them.

For two days the doors were closed and no one was allowed inside. Only Bruno's occasional exit and reentering made the doors open, and only the quiet sounds of clinking could be heard from behind the heavy doors.

After two days, the doors were opened. Little Flora, who had slept by the door for two nights, ran into the room.

Miraculously, her mother seemed healthier than before! Her father smiled a bit uncertainly and told her that her mother would live. However, Violet would still be, for the most part, confined to her bed, still too sickly for strenuous activity. Flora didn't mind, because her mother was still healthy enough to see her every day.

Yet, not even the miracle could lift the king's spirits and he continued to sink into depression.

Secretly, unbeknownst to the advisors, the king had given Bruno a task that seemed almost impossible. But, Bruno was a miracle man, and the task was completed in three year's time.

The very year the task was completed, the king was killed.

The assassins sought to kill the queen and her young daughter as well, but they could not find them.

For the king had read the greed of those around him and foreseen his demise.

He had tasked Bruno to build a tower, well hidden from the eyes that would wish to do his wife and daughter harm. Inside the tower, the king also requested Bruno to build people of clockwork—robots—so realistic that his daughter would never feel alone in that tower. With them, Bruno took his great knowledge and disappeared.

The king's assailants were furious. Where was Bruno? They needed his knowledge and skills!

The king merely smiled and said, "Knowledge? That's hidden with the Golden Apple."

And nothing more.

In the months of chaos that followed, the most influential of the advisors eventually rose up to take the throne, saying that he would abdicate once the true heir returned. Until then, he would be king.

The new king expanded the weapons research group until the majority of the researchers were a part of the effort. "My citizens," the man said in a speech to the castle-town, "although I am saddened by the fact, it is obvious to me, after the assassination of our beloved king, that Mystere is still insufficiently defended. We must become stronger, so that this tragedy will never occur again."

The citizens were, for the most part, not displeased. It sounded reasonable enough.

And those who knew better were silenced immediately.

Meanwhile, Flora and Violet lived in the tower, hidden from all. Their only companions were each other, Bruno, and his robotic creations. Said robotic creations were so realistic that Flora honestly didn't mind much at all.

Seeing how much Flora loved his clockwork people, Bruno decided to pass his knowledge of machines onto Flora. And for years, the old man taught Flora the workings of his creations.

"_This_ is the heart of the robot," Bruno said as they fixed Simon. Little Flora, crouched beside him, nodded. "Keep it in good shape, or nothing will run! Of course, the brains are up here." He gestured towards the head. "Just like for you and me. They've all been enchanted to run correctly with the seal there," another gesture towards an intricate symbol engraved inside the skull, "but if you ever find the need to change the functions, you can override the commands if you say the magic words."

"'Please'?"

"No, no, no," Bruno laughed, "sing that old song your mother taught you. The words are in there."

"_I am a little mockingbird,_

_You think I'm weak and frail,_

_But Clockwork, that's absurd._

_Your gears may outlast me,_

_But I am a mockingbird._

_Your gears __can't catch me__."_

But not even the miracle man could avoid old age, and after eight years of hiding, Bruno passed away, leaving Flora to care for her mother and the clockwork people.

However, before his death, Bruno had beseeched a trusted friend to look after Flora and had sent that friend instructions to the tower (coded, of course). The friend, being a gentleman as well as a world-renowned scholar, accepted, and two months after Bruno's death, he came to live at the tower.

With him, he brought much of the scientific knowledge of Mystere and the world.

"Of course," the gentleman said, "I will teach you everything I know, just as your father would've wanted. A true lady, especially one of Mystere, must be intelligent, after all."

"You knew papa?" Flora asked, eyes wide.

"But of course."

"What's your name, mister?"

The man said with a little bow, "Professor Hershel Layton, at your service."

And the years went by, pulled forward by the gears of a great clock.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, this is going to be slow, super slow. Haha, no magic hair, sorry.


	2. One Wish

A/N: I'm kind of confused, is it Violet or Viola?

Disclaimer: Professor Layton is property of Level-5.

- Chapter 1: One Wish -

"Just a little longer, Gizmo…"

One more wire was connected and the last screw tightened and…"There!" Flora beamed and set the robot dog on the floor. "I fixed the leg and I added a feature too. Now you can scavenge for gold like those pigs in the book scavenge for truffles."

The clockwork dog waggled its feet as if to ascertain that it was replaced correctly.

"Oh, I screwed it on just fine. Now don't you want to try your new gold sensor, Gizmo?" Flora urged.

Gizmo tilted its head slightly and barked a static-charged bark.

"Come on Gizmo!" she said, throwing her hands into the air. "Everyone likes gold in the outside world! This sensor is definitely useful. Now go!" She thrust a finger towards the ceiling. "Find that coin I hid in the room!"

There was a low growl as the clockwork dog began to search for the coin, but Gizmo did not give further protest. With its nose close to the floor, Gizmo prowled the room until a high pitched ping was emitted from its nose. It awkwardly swept aside the cushions in the area with one of its stubby paws to reveal a small, gold coin.

"Yes!" Flora shouted excitedly, jumping slightly. "It works, it works!" She paused thoughtfully. "Although…I think I should give you longer legs…and maybe some moveable toes...but that's not very dog-like, is it?"

"Flora!"

The girl jumped at her name. "Oh dear," she muttered. Then louder, "Coming, mother!"

Down the hallway, up two flights of stairs, in the first room after turning two corners was Violet's room. The room itself was furnished simply, but comfortably. A soft carpet was under the bed, adding warmth to the smooth, stone floor. Surrounded by plush pillows and thin sheets (just right for a summer's day), Violet's mother reclined into the bed.

"There you are, dear," Violet said with a warm, if tired, smile.

"Did you need something, mother?"

"Yes, Matthew found Simon deactivated in the library this morning," Violet said, motioning weakly towards a robot with a large nose, sprawled unceremoniously on the floor. "I think we forgot to give him a command for quite a few days because he had holed himself up in the library and we couldn't find him…"

"He always was obsessed with outsmarting the professor!" Flora giggled.

"Yes he is," Violet said, chuckling. "But we can't have him in this state forever! Reactivate him, won't you, Flora?"

"Of course, mother." Flora cleared her throat and then, she quietly sang:

"_I am a little mockingbird, _

_You think I'm weak and frail,_

_But Clockwork, that's absurd._

_Your gears may outlast me,_

_But I am a mockingbird._

_Your gears __can't catch me__."_

Immediately, Simon opened his eyes and sprang up, embarrassed by his former posture. "S-sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"Don't go running off like that!" Flora admonished. "What would've happened if Matthew hadn't found you? Besides, _you're_ one of the ones who help mother."

"I really am sorry! But….but there was this series of books," Simon protested, "a-and they were so fascinating I spent all day and night reading them. Before I knew it a couple days passed and…well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite able to look up.

"…one week helping clean the tower," Flora said.

"What?" Simon's head shot up. "B-but, that's so _boring_!"

"One week," she repeated flatly. "Don't make me make it two," she said before Simon could protest further.

Simon glared at her, but said nothing else, although he did grumble grouchily as he left the room.

"I think that three days would've sufficed," Violet said after Simon's departure.

"I gave him three days last time, mother," Flora replied mercilessly. "More importantly, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, much better. You know it always does me good to see you, dear," Violet said, patting Flora's arm.

Flora bit her lip nervously.

"…is something wrong, Flora?"

"No, nothing!" the girl answered hastily.

"Well then, is there something you would like to ask me?" Violet said, unconvinced.

"I…well...would you be alright without me for a day or two?"

"I suppose I would make due, dear." Violet sat up and turned to look at her daughter quizzically. "Why are you asking me this? Is the professor planning to keep you studying for a whole day?"

Flora took in a deep breath. "Iwantto...toleavethetowerformybirthday."

"What? Flora, _enunciate_ and slow down!"

Another deep breath. "I want to leave the tower for my birthday."

Violet stared, then slowly, "Flora, you know you can't leave."

"It's only for one day!"

"Flora, you can't."

"But I would be back before you know it! A-and I'm not asking to go alone!" Flora gestured wildly all around the room. "I just want the professor to take me to this year's Inventor's Fair. It falls on my birthday this year and it would be the perfect gift! There's no harm—"

"Flora!"

The girl stopped abruptly, shocked into silence by her mother's unusually cold glare.

"You can't."

"Why?" she said furiously, recovering from the surprise.

"You can't go alone," Violet said softly, looking away. "The world outside…isn't a pleasant place. It doesn't work like the worlds in the storybooks. People steal, lie, attack and kill each other, Flora. You remember what happened to your father, don't you?"

"Yes, but there's no reason that they would try to kill me—"

"There is a reason! Your father was killed because others envied him _for his knowledge_. Your uncle, Bruno, hid with us to avoid the same fate."

"But they don't know anything about _me_."

"You were taught everything Bruno knew!"

"But I'm not going to traipse around showing off, mother!"

"You will slip up, Flora!"

"Why can't you have any faith in me?"

"Because you have no experience, Flora!" Violet shouted, unexpectedly loud. "You know nothing about what it is like out there. You know _nothing_ about what people will do out there to get what they want!"

"I will never gain any experience if I stay in here forever," Flora said icily.

"The moment I let you go, you'll be swindled into one thing or another or you'll naively wander off with some shady character and never come back."

"I would not go anywhere without someone I didn't trust, mother!"

"You give your trust too easily! Out there are humans, not robots, they aren't governed by any rules. They're unpredictable! You can't trust anybody."

"But I'm human, remember?"

"You're not leaving. It's safe in here. You're too naïve, too weak. You can't defend yourself at all!"

"I told you that the professor will—"

"The professor agrees with me!" Flora stiffened. "He agrees that you should never leave here and he will never agree to take you outside."

"…and what if he did agree?"

"Flora," Violet muttered wearily.

"What if he did agree?" Flora insisted. "Then I could go couldn't I?"

"Flora…"

"Mother, your argument is based entirely on the fact that the professor won't come with me, but if he did, it's moot!"

Violet massaged her temples.

"Mother, please." She kneeled by her mother's bedside, hands clasped together tightly. "_Please_."

Her mother sighed and turned to face Flora. "If the professor agrees to take you," she said slowly, "then I suppose you can go."

"Thank you!" Flora cried as she lunged to hug Violet. "Thankyouthankyouthankthankyou!"

Violet smiled a bit and returned her daughter's embrace. "Only if the professor agrees," she reminded.

"I know he'll agree, oh, I'm so excited!" she said, feet stamping loudly on the floor as she did an ecstatic jig.

"…don't be so sure of that."

* * *

><p>"…I can't believe we're working with a little psycho!" growled a thick-set man with stitched-up scar running across one side of his forehead. He tugged crossly at his dark moustache. Even crouched in the darkness of a narrow, empty alleyway, his purple face made his irritation obvious.<p>

"C'mon now, Bostro," grunted another spindly man, nervously playing with his dark glasses as he tried to pacify the angry Bostro. "Boy can't be as bad as you think."

"Not as bad?" Bostro fumed. "Splinter, did you not see that look in 'is eye when we asked for 'is cooperation? An' haven't you heard 'bout the stunt he pulled a few months ago?"

"We outta be glad, oughtn't we, that he was so eager to help?" Splinter said evenly with a shrug of his thin shoulders.

"I don't trust anyone who's so quick to betray their own country," Bostro said as he continued to pull at his (rapidly shrinking) moustache.

"Who's betraying their own country?"

Bostro quickly spun around to face the newcomer. "Triton!" he shouted. "We've been waitin' for ages! No one followed you back, right?"

"I doubt that would've mattered," the young man drawled, leaning against a wall, "since the whole street must've heard you shouting." He looked rather out of place with the other two men. Sadly, the other two looked as though they had been _born_ looking like criminals. The young man, however, looked like the type you would see helping old ladies avoid the horse carriages as they crossed the roads in town. He was normally built, of a normal height, with a normal hair color (a normal shade of brown), and he was dressed smartly (and normally with a blue jacket, blue cap, white shirt, etc.) to boot.

"Why you—"

"As for my trustworthiness, I ask that you relax," he continued smoothly, completely ignoring Bostro. "I have no love for this country as the way things are and it I would like nothing more than to see those arrogant fools sitting in the castle squirm." He gave a normal, if charming, smile. "I should think that having a few tidbits of information falling into another country's hands before they are so _magnanimously_ willing to reveal them would make them squirm, don't you? Of course, besides that pleasure, there's also payment from you two." The smile stayed in place, but the overall air about the young man changed, and suddenly, it seemed as though he belonged in the torture chamber on the torturer's side.

"It's been settled already, Triton," Splinter said quickly before Bostro could yell any more. "You help us steal the plans to clockwork beings and we'll pay you three hundred pounds of gold."

"And, because the blueprints aren't completed yet…?"

"…we will tell you everything about how to create the clockwork beings once our scientists have found out how to make them."

"Excellent!" the young man said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "Well then, let's go! I've scouted a bit and I found a good way to enter."

"Enter?" Bostro narrowed his eyes. "Enter where?"

"The laboratory behind the castle, of course," the young man said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Where else do you think the robots are developed?"

"What're 'robots'?" Splinter asked, scratching his head.

"Another name for the clockwork beings. Bruno coined the term."

"You sure 'bout this?"

"Positive. It's only one of their most dangerous researches; the laboratory is the best place for that."

* * *

><p>The laboratory lay several miles behind the castle, surrounded only by air. The forest had been completely cleared around it. There were no trees, no grass, no weeds; only dirt, for a mile. A rapidly flowing river ran behind it, white with foam and roaring as the water clashed against the rocks. The river was about thirty feet across, and on the opposite banks, the forest still flourished. The edifice itself was solidly built of stone and metal, sunk low into the ground. Only the top floor was exposed to the world, the rest of it lay underground. Guards were place all around the building. They did not need height to find intruders; the shrub-less, flat earth guaranteed that no one could sneak in.<p>

Or so it was commonly believed.

"There's a hidden tunnel that leads right into the lowest floor of the laboratory," the young man said.

"How'd you know that?" Splinter asked.

"I have acquaintances who once worked in the laboratory. The passageway is used to sneak the information out, in case the laboratory is threatened. Of course, it can also be used to sneak in. Scientists don't seem to be very observant when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Sounds too easy," Bostro said suspiciously.

"Oh, well there are a few guards around the exit and entrance of course," the young man shrugged. "But they're isolated unless they can call for help. You look like you have quite a bit of muscle, Bostro. Make use of it and knock them out before they can alert the other guards."

Once the trio reached the clearing in the forest were the entrance was, Bostro did just that. With one swift movement, he grabbed a guard—separated from the others so as to not draw too much attention to the clearing— with one beefy arm, and neatly gave a minor concussion with his free arm. He repeated this four times, with a different guard each time.

The tunnel itself was steep, but well lit by bottles filled with a glow like that of fireflies. The young man wondered how the scientists were supposed to drag their heavier, important discoveries up this tunnel and decided that it was another example of carelessness.

At the tunnel's end, Splinter quickly kicked the door open, and before the surprised guards could act, he and Bostro smashed their heads together. The young man stepped out of the tunnel and immediately began to run off, leaving the other two men to chase after him.

"We have to hurry," he warned as they stopped to hide behind a bulky invention. "They'll discover the unconscious guards any minute…"

"I'll go back to hide them—"

"Back down, Splinter!" he hissed. "They'll notice no guards just as easily. Now, from what I gleaned from my acquaintance, the blueprints should be on this floor, near the center of the building. Apparently, the room is piled with useless robots, so it'll be obvious."

Without another word, the three began to move again. Fortunately, the hallways were mostly empty. Unfortunately, there were so many twists and turns that it was difficult to discern where the center was.

A few minutes of running and… "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! THE GUARDS ARE UNCONSIOUS!"

The young man flinched. "Great, someone found them. Hurry!" He quickened his pace, no longer caring about the sound of his footsteps as he heard loud bangs and skids in the rooms as the scientists rapidly abandoned their research to check on the commotion.

As the doors opened and the scientists rushed out, the three intruders crouched behind three, useless, decorative statues tucked away into indents in the wall. It wasn't very effective for Bostro, since he was too muscular to be hidden by the thin statues, but the shadows obscured him enough for the panicking scientists to overlook him.

The young man smirked. This was perfect! Thank god for the idiocy of scientists! "Quickly!" he said. "While the scientists are gone, check the rooms."

The other two men scrambled for the doors. Splinter checked the nearest room immediately, only to be disappointed to find that it was completely devoid of worthless robots and only filled with colorful, leafy plants of questionable safety. Bostro had trouble squeezing out from behind the statue and didn't manage to do anything until Splinter had already checked five more rooms.

The young man took his time with the rooms. He entered several of them to look over the research papers. "No, no," he muttered in one as he flipped though blueprints detailing the creation of something that could shoot out six metal balls in rapid succession. "Wouldn't have quite the effect I hope for…" And with a careless toss, he threw the papers over his shoulders and ran to next room.

"Hurry up, Triton!" Bostro hissed, sticking his head through the door to find the young man stuffing papers into one of the pockets inside his jacket. "What's that?" he asked suspiciously. "You better not be tryin' to keep the blueprints for the clockwork beings to yourself."

"Oh no, of course not!" the young man replied, smiling. "This is just a little extra something for myself."

"I don't trust you, Tri—"

"BOSTRO! I'VE FOUND THEM. I'VE FOUND THE BLUEPRINTS!" bellowed Splinter, running into the room.

Of course, the three were already pushing their luck by staying so long, and with that loud shout, it was obvious that someone would find them.

In fact, a whole squadron of guards found them.

"There's the intruder!" cried a guard, pointing at the room just as Splinter's legs disappeared into it.

The young man immediately shut and locked the door. His companions immediately dropped whatever they were holding and began to jam as much furniture as they could into the doorway to withstand the heavy pounding as the squadron of guards tried to batter down the door.

"_Now_ what do we do?" Splinter asked, frantically looking around. He froze as he saw the young man.

The young man was holding the blueprints in hand, sitting calmly on a cabinet.

Eight feet above them near the ceiling of the room, right above the door.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Splinter spluttered.

"Checking to make sure you grabbed the right plans," the young man replied, not taking his eyes off the plans. "Fortunately, you did." He folded the papers and put them in his jacket pocket as well.

"Oi! Give that back!" Bostro shouted, thrusting a thick finger at the young man.

"No thank you. Now…if you'll excuse me." With a forceful tug, he pulled the rusty metal bars from a narrow opening next to him. "I figured there would be some of these. How else would the lower levels be so well aired even with the doors shut so tightly most of the time? Lucky they don't maintain their coverings too well."

"Wh-what—"

"These are air vents to help the lower levels be tolerable, of course."

"That's not what I meant!" Bostro roared, face turning an even darker shade of purple. "What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm escaping of course." He waved his blue cap. "Have a nice day, gentlemen."

Splinter and Bostro dove at the cabinet, scrambling to climb the furniture they had put before the door, desperate to grab the young man. "Triton! If you think—why did you bring a gun?" Bostro stared at the small, wood and metal contraption in the young man's hand and recoiled in fear. Splinter backed up immediately.

"Like it? It's a new model, wheellock, I think. Cost me a fair sum, but I think it was worth it."

"But why did you—"

"Surely you didn't think I came empty-handed?" he quipped with a friendly nastiness. "Now, why don't you two wait there for a bit…"

The door was pushed open with a bang. The blockade was dispersed by the force of the door being broken down, and Bostro and Splinter were thrown back with it.

The young man took this as his cue and slipped into the narrow opening.

The guards swarmed in, now with reinforcements. They quickly tackled the two men, dog piling them and stuffing their faces against the floor as they chained them. It wasn't until several minutes had passed and the men had their faces free from the floor that the guards finally heard, "We weren't the only two! He escaped through the vents!"

By then, of course, the young man had already crawled his way to a room many doors down from the one he had escaped from. The room from which he decided to exit the vents was mostly empty—only a single scientist was in there. The bars, however, were less rusty than the one in the room he had escaped from. After pulling roughly at the bars a few times, the young man placed his gun on a particularly stubborn bar and fired.

"What the?" The scientist turned to spot the young man climbing out of the opening. Before he could cry for help, the scientist saw a bar of metal flying towards his face…

The young man bolted from the room, knowing that the gunfire would've drawn attention. Surely enough, in adjacent rooms the scientists that had returned poked their heads out of the doors. The young man didn't care who saw him anymore and continued to tear through the hallway.

"There's another intruder!" they clamored. One tried to make a grab for the young man, but the young man slammed against the door as it was half-opened, the brave scientist partially still in the door way. The poor scientist gave a moan as the door crushed him against the wall and crumpled to the floor.

The young man had only turned a few corners before he saw the guards running towards him. Cursing, he sped up his pace and reached a stairway just before the guards did. They ran after him, but soon fell behind due to their great numbers clogging the narrow stairs.

There was no way he could use the tunnel now, the young man thought grimly as he bounded up another flight of stairs leading to fourth floor underground. He would have to find another exit. But where? "Think…what else did they say about this place…?" The first floor had the main door, but the young man highly doubted that even the folks of the laboratory were stupid enough to leave it unguarded. No…he would be caught immediately. The second then? Weapons productions…needed a lot of water to power everything…not to mention cooling things off…all the water was obtained through the second level, right…?

Wait. That could mean an exit into the river!

It was crazy. He could smash up against rocks and die.

Oh well. This was the only chance he had of escaping with his loot.

It was a good thing he had placed the papers inside a safe-keeping pouch he had purchased a few months ago. Those could withstand the water for awhile, right?

Several uneventful flights of stairs later, he was on the second level.

So were the guards.

"There he is!"

Still, the young man, alone, was quicker. He followed the sound of water, louder on the second level than on any other.

Finally, he reached a hallway that was filled with the sound. Many doors led to rooms complete sealed off; the walls in contact with the river were blocked off by heavy stone walls directing the water elsewhere in the laboratory. One door, gaps sealed with a tar substance, was marked: _For buckets of water, place bucket through opening and draw._

The door was locked, but the young man unhatched a wooden panel and pushed himself through the opening.

He went headfirst into a room filled waist-high in water. The room, he found, jutted out into the river about four feet and it was riddled with tiny holes to allow water to slowly trickle in. There were traces of tar sealing cracks here and there to keep the water levels under control, but the young man could see how the rotted wood could barely keep the room from collapsing; it would need maintenance soon.

The young man gulped. This was it.

Guards were looking through the opening.

He slammed himself against the rotted wood and the wall gave way. Like a rag doll, he was carried away by the river.

"I knew he was insane!" shouted a guard, closing the opening and running for one of the water room maintenance crews.

The young man lost no time trying to reach the surface once again. The river wasn't very deep, perhaps only fifteen feet deep, but it was filled with rocks. As the currents tossed him this way and that, it was all that he could do to not become a messy spot upon the rocks. As he narrowly missed one, he grabbed for it, flinching and letting a bit of precious air escape when the jagged ends cut into his hands.

But he held on and using the rock, he managed to break the surface of the river.

He gasped for air, marveling that he wasn't dead yet. He had been tossed to the other side of the river bank, some hundred feet downstream from where he had started.

The guards barely gave him a minutes rest. Already, they were running towards him, shouting for boats.

Groaning, he hoisted himself onto the opposite shore and managed to break into a slow run, a miracle considering how his legs felt like lead.

But he knew he couldn't keep it up for long. With every step, he felt more like collapsing. To make it worse, he thought he could hear the guards in the distance.

To make it even _worse_ (he cursed his luck), he had run himself into a dead end. The forest was shallower than he thought and ended at a long stretch of sheer cliff he didn't even want to attempt climbing with his cut up hands.

He sank to the floor to lean against the thickly ivy-covered wall. Just a few minutes, he thought, then he would start moving again.

To his surprise, the ivy gave way and he nearly tumbled into a small cave. Or, it wasn't really a cave, more like a dented area in the rock cliff with an overhang where the ivy just continued to grow, like a curtain. This was as good as a place as any to hide for awhile.

He huddled behind a rock that was just randomly there in the middle of the little cave.

The young man could barely contain a curse when the rock suddenly slid a foot and he hit his head.

Did nothing stay in place in this forest?

* * *

><p>AN: This felt a bit too short. Oh well.


	3. A Deal Between Two People

Disclaimer: Professor Layton is property of Level-5.

Chapter 2: A Deal Between Two People

The young man was very glad he didn't cry out when the rock slid because nearly immediately after that incident, he heard the guards scurrying closer by the second. Again, he huddled behind the rock, taking care this time not to lean against it. He prayed that the guards wouldn't find the crevice in the cliff wall, although looking at the entrance from within, he realized how lucky he was to find it in the first place; the opening was hardly larger than he was.

Outside, the shadows of the guards flashed into and out of view of the entrance rapidly. None stopped in view for long and none seemed to notice the opening.

"He's not here, Mr. Chelmley, sir!" one guard said, and the young man could imagine the guard saluting.

"Blast it!" shouted (the young man assumed) Chelmley. "Where is that little theif?"

"He might be hidden in the forest, sir."

"Well then, we're not leaving until we smoke him out! Secure the area! Call for more guards!" he barked.

"B-but sir," one guard stuttered, "what if he's left already? Down the river?"

"Sir, it's not safe to leave the laboratory unguarded," said another.

The one assumed to be Chelmley cried out in frustration. "Half of you, keep searching the forest, the other half, return to the laboratory; we'll make further plans there!"

"Yes sir!" the guards shouted in unison. In minutes, they emptied back into the forest and away from the cliff.

The young man let out a breath of relief. No one had found the crevice. Remebering the reason he was running in the first place, the young man removed a soaking pouch from his equally wet jacket pocket and checked the papers inside; dry. Satisfied, he replaced the pouch and stood to check outside, but upon standing, he saw a strange pattern on the ground where he had sat; where the rock had originally stood.

He kneeled back on the ground to take a closer look.

It wasn't a pattern written in the ground, he found to his surprise. Rather, it seemed to be writing carved into pieces of metal, arranged onto another metal sheet. It read "What is the smallest number in this pattern? 22 33 44 55"

The young man rubbed his eyes; certainly he was reading wrong. What would this…this _puzzle_ be doing here otherwise? But rereading the metal sheet did not change what he saw. Looking elsewhere on the sheet, he saw a "3" carved into the upper right corner and what seemed to be a place to enter an answer in the corner directly under that.

This was absurd, he thought. Who puts something like this under a rock in the middle of a cave _hidden in the middle of the forest_? Out of curiosity, the young man picked up two loose "1" metal tiles from a grid of loose number tiles and placed them in the indented area in the metal sheet.

The "3" in the corner flickered into a "2". Under it, a square of metal flipped over to reveal "WRONG".

The young man bristled. He was being made fun of by a sheet of metal! What did it mean he was wrong? The answer was obviously "11". Refusing to be defeated by an inanimate object, he removed the two "1" tiles from the the indent.

The young man stared furiously at the metal sheet for a moment and then, he wondered. Surely…surely the answer couldn't be something as, well, _childish_ as that, could it?

Supposing that there was no harm in trying, the young man took two tiles and the set them in the indent so that it read "08".

The "2" did not flicker into a "1". Instead, the square of metal with "WRONG" etched into it flipped back over to the blank side and under it, another square of metal flipped to reveal "CORRECT".

Feeling satisfied with himself, the young man again stood to leave.

This time, he was stopped by faint clicking sounds coming from within the cliff wall. Apprehensively, the young man slowly stepped closer to the rock wall and the faint clicking grew louder.

He pressed his ear against the wall. It sounded like gears turning; thousands of gears turning.

Suddenly, the cliff wasn't against his ear anymore. Surprised, the young man jumped back.

An entire section of the cliff was inching inwards to reveal an opening large enough to admit one person. As the opening widened, the young man could see that unlike the crevice he was in presently, the opening led to an area that continued on beyond what his eyes could see. It was a tunnel sloping gently downwards, lit by small lanterns hung every few feet on each side of the stone wall. What had appeared to be part of the cliff, the young man realized, was in fact a door of sorts that blended seamlessly into the cliff itself when closed. Someone had found this entrance and decided to hide it, but why?

The young man gulped. He supposed he ought to turn back because honestly, who decides to walk into doorways that randomly opened in walls without any preperations whatsoever? But then again, hadn't he done things just as mad already today? What did he have to lose, anyways? This sort of contraption needed frequent maintenance. This place couldn't be abandoned. Perhaps he could see who used a place like this and…err, _borrow_ their resources. Either way, wherever this tunnel led could be the perfect place for him to lie low for awhile before the guards stopped searching for him.

And if for some reason his logic was wrong, the worse that could happen was that he starved to death.

Cheerfully, the young man entered the tunnel. Before he had gone more than a few feet in, the rock slid back into its original position and the stone door shut behind him. That was a bit foreboding, but…"No turning back now," he muttered.

The path led underground, but the slope was much less steep than that of the tunnel he had used to enter the laboratory. It gradually widened as well so that although the young man knew that he was going deeper and deeper into the earth, he did not feel the least bit claustrophobic. The gleaming circles of light around each lantern intersected each other so that every corner of the tunnel was bathed in a warm glow. Clearly whoever designed this path had thought everything through.

After walking a few dozen minutes more, the young man realized with a start that the tunnel was now large enough to fit a good sized house. Still, the path was widening and the tunnel was leading downwards…but how much farther down did it go? And how much larger could it become for that matter, he wondered idly.

Before long, the young man could hear hundreds of footsteps as each of his steps echoed against the cavernous walls. It was as though he had brought along his own private army.

The lanterns dotted the ceiling and floor of the tunnel now as well, the ones on the walls no longer sufficient. They formed a gleaming path that disappeared into the darkness as the furthest laterns were nothing more than a pin-prickle. Yet the path continued on.

And on…

And on…

And on.

Then that was it.

The path ended.

The young man could see the end of the tunnel, the back of the cavern wall. Not that he registered any of that, though.

As he remained rooted to the spot, his eyes were trailing upward, widening more and more as they traced a looming structure up and up to the ceiling of the expansive cavern. The rock ceiling had a thin crack, allowing a single ray of light from the outside to slip into the cavern and fall, almost deliberately, onto the structure. It was a tower, most definitely man-made with all of its wood and plaster.

The tower was whimsically built: a wedding cake teetering uncertainly, wrapped in planks of wood and hammered-in patches of metal and topped with a bizarre clockwork centerpiece with thousands of gears that spun round and round. There were windows several layers above the gound. There was _light_ in the windows.

Someone had built a hundred foot tower inside a cavern carved into the middle of a cliff.

Whoever lived in the tower had to be _the_ most eccentric person he would ever meet, the young man thought wonderingly.

The young man slowly stepped towards the tower. From the base of the tower, even craning his neck, the young man could not see the top of it. Circling it once, he also could not see a single door or stairway. He cursed quietly and looked up again, and fortunately, he saw that the numerous planks that held the tower together were hammered quite unevenly and would provide excellent footholds for scaling the building. Of course, climbing anything wasn't going to do his injured hands any favors, but what choice did he have?

He removed the tie from around his neck and took out a small pocket knife to sever the fabric in half. Then, he wrapped one piece around each hand, over the cuts. At least now the wounds wouldn't come into direct contact with the most definitely splinter-filled planks.

He took a deep breath.

And jumped.

The young man bit back loud swear as his hands managed to latch onto a board with the edges digging _right_ into the wounds on the palm of his hands. He took a minute to steady himself, adjusted his hands a bit, and pulled himself up until he could swing one of his legs onto the jutting edge of the plank. Then, he reached for another jutting plank a few feet above him and pulled his other leg up and stood. Panting, he took another moment to steady himself, quite precarious considering the fact that he was balanced on the tips of his toes on a two inch ledge. Then again, he pulled himself over the next to the next plank…

A too long of a time later, the young man stood level with the first set of windows lining the tower.

Slowly, he inched to the window several feet to his left and peered inside.

It was a normal room: chairs, tables, and even a potted plant that the young man was sure must be fake considering the location of the tower. Inside, there were two girls. Normal looking girls. He was surprised. The scene unfolding before him was like something he would see around the streets of Mystere's Castletown as two friends shopped or something. He'd been expecting something stranger, although he supposed a normal conversation _was_ strange in a place like this.

"Oh, oh! Tell me Andrea!" the shorter of the two said excitedly, her shoulder-length hair bobbing slightly.

The taller girl giggled behind her hand. "Well, alright. But I'm telling you, this puzzle would even make Flora feel so stupid!"

The door burst open, a portly old man fuming in the doorway. "You two! What are you doing, slacking off?" His eyes narrowed and his glasses flashed. "And what was that I heard about Flora and stupid? _In the same sentence_?"

"Tehehehe," the girl called Andrea laughed. "Don't you wish _you_ knew, Matthew? I bet you feel sooooo stupid right now."

"Why you—"

Before the portly man could start his rant, the young man quickly moved away from that window. It was occupied, and useless to him.

It was suprising, though, to find this tower in the middle of nowhere so populated. What did they eat anyways? If the entire tower was that densely populated…that was a lot of food.

Carefully, the young man slid over to the window directly to his right.

It was a dark room, piled with mountains of papers and books. The only lights he could see were weak dots, dim as a single firefly, scattered and buried in the stacks of papers. No sound came from within the room.

This looked like a decent place to hide for awhile, or least as well as any place considering the way he was standing. His toes and fingers were really starting to ache.

As quietly as he could, the young man stepped through the window and into the room. Small clouds of dust swirled around his feet as he stepped soundlessly through the crowded room.

Most of the papers, he noticed as he glanced briefly at them through the darkness, seemed to be handwritten parchments, written in a tiny, cramped font that covered the paper so thickly that there was by far less blank space than black ink. The occasional drawing accompanied some of the writings, but it was too dim to see the contents of the parchments clearly.

Books made up the secondary majority of the debris in the cramped room. They were well worn and by a few that were open, he could see that whoever wrote all the papers also wrote in the margins of the books. Titles such as _Fantastical Gears and How To Make Them_ and _Science(!), A History_ gleamed from some of the more ornate books.

And then, kept very neatly, was a bundle of newspaper clippings sitting on top of a pile of books, kept together by a large, apple-shaped paperweight. Unlike many other things in the room, it wasn't dusty, as though it had been handled recently. He removed the paperweight from the stack and picked up some of the clippings near the top.

"RESEARCH DEPARTMENT TO BE EXPANDED" read one headline. It was dated a few weeks ago. The young man scoffed (quietly of course) as he recalled the article; they were always taking down old buildings and such to expand the research buildings, but this was a new low. He flipped to the next one.

They were all neatly cut out articles about some scientific development or another. The other side was completely blacked out with ink until it was illegible. As he flipped through them, the young man thought to himself that whoever cut these out must not get the paper very much because there were often months, if not years, between the clippings…why this one was dated five years back. That was six months—

He froze.

RESEARCHERS PROUD TO PRESENT NEW ENERGY SOURCE AFTER 8 YEARS OF EXPERIMENTATION!

A picture of a group of smiling scientist, all crowded around a medal.

Bastards.

_Bastards_.

He remembered this article. Insensitive. Arrogant. _Selevtively ignorant_. They all deserved to burn in hell for the rest of their pathetic existences.

Burn.

Die painfully.

Taste fear and see what their damn inventions created in this world.

He would tear them to shreds one day.

He did tear them to shreds.

The young man threw the crumpled pieces of the torn article away from him.

It fluttered down to the floor, mocking him.

With a cry of rage, he kicked at the paper ball…

And knocked over another stack of papers behind it.

They toppled over with a thump.

That was loud. Not good.

"Ramon?" a voice called. It was a girl. He wasn't alone in the room.

Yeah, really not good.

"Ramon?" the girl called again. "Is that you?"

Cursing his lack of control over his temper, the young man turned to retrace his steps to the window.

Only to find that he had completely gotten himself lost in the maze of papers.

"Ramon!" the voice said, a little louder now. "Are you there?"

The girl, whoever she was, was getting closer. The idea of slitting the girl's throat with his pocket knife flickered through his mind briefly before the young man calmed down and rationalized that that was highly unnecessary.

"There you are!" The voice was right behind him.

The young man began to turn and caught a glimpse of a girl with brown hair.

Then pain seared through the side of his skull and turned his vision white with an explosion timed with a loud shriek. The white grayed, darkened, and turned to black.

* * *

><p>After speaking with her mother, with nice results, Flora was in a very good mood. She kept waiting for Professor Layton by the entrance window, but after an hour or so, she realized that excited as she was, that was still no excuse for wasting time doing nothing.<p>

It took several tries for her to settle down, but once she did, she completely immersed herself in the research she had started a few days before.

She bent over her desk in a room crowded with books and papers she affectionately called her 'private study'. Her mechanical parrot, her first creation, flittered about the room, collecting papers and books for her. There was only one light source near her; a desk lamp, and she knew that the professor would berate her yet again for taking inadequate care of her vision. By the time that thought even registered, however, Flora was too deep in her research to care much.

It really was quite fascinating. She had never given much thought to the design of Bruno's seal and the effects of the words on them, that is, until a few days (as far as she could tell by the crack in the cave ceiling) ago. Since then, with much experimentation on Gizmo—whom she apologized to profusely and showered with the appropriate treats for mechanical dogs—she was beginning to see how the song affected the seal. For example—

There was a strange noise and the sound of papers toppling.

Flora straightened and glanced towards the direction of the noise.

It was probably Ramon again. He was quite clumsy with his awkwardly made body; gangly arms and rather small feet. It was like him to sneak up on her as a joke, or at least, try to. Ramon frequently tried to play with her like this whenever he needed repairs, which was often due to his lack of motor skills.

She sighed. "Ramon?"

There was no reply.

Flora frowned. Strange; Ramon usually showed himself, laughing sheepishly when he was found out. Was there something seriously wrong with him? Quickly, she picked up a small toolbox near her desk and began to move towards the place she had heard the noise.

"Ramon?" she called again. "Is that you?"

Still no reply, but there was the sound of feet shuffling…

Strange. Very strange. She quickened her pace.

"Ramon!" Flora called, anxious. "Are you there?" Even if it wasn't Ramon…someone would usually answer by now. Was this a ghost?

The footsteps were louder now. With a burst of speed, Flora went towards the sound. She saw dimly a humanoid shape, definitely solid..

Oh good, so it wasn't a ghost. "There you are!" she said, relief spreading through her.

Then the shape started to turn.

That wasn't Ramon. The body was too normally formed. The face lacked the strange purple lips that Bruno chuckled over.

That wasn't _anyone_ she had seen before. Bruno liked to give his robots physical quirks—that looked nothing like something Bruno would make.

This wasn't what she was expecting.

_Remember Flora, a lady must always be polite! Who is this, who is this? Curtsy, say hello! What? Whaaaaaaat?_

The gears in her mind whirred rapidly—too rapidly, pushed by her overworking heart. Overheating…sparking…steam…gears getting stuck…

So she screamed, took her toolbox, and with all her strength, whacked the shape before it could turn completely.

The shape gave a short cry of pain and fell to the floor.

Flora leapt back five feet as the shape thudded to the ground and became enshrouded in dust.

She didn't move, position frozen with the toolbox readied in her hand. The shape didn't move, position frozen, sideways.

Moments passed, and with the shape still not stirring, Flora gulped and nervously began to advanced on the still unstirring shape.

By the light of her lamp, she could see that it looked like a human male. If this was a robot, Flora knew that he wasn't one she had ever seen before. Perhaps Bruno had built him and never released him into the tower? It was possible that the tower had hidden rooms she knew nothing about…perhaps he had just recently found his way out. If so, Flora felt extremely guilty for giving him such a terrible welcome.

Still, how strange of Bruno to build a robot like this. Aesthetically speaking, he lacked the strange noses or eyes that Bruno loved to design on his robots ("Why not make them distinctive?"), although the design was still pleasant, just…not like Bruno. He was smartly dressed despite the fact that Flora had accidentally knocked over his cap when she hit him. Brown hair, average height (perhaps a bit taller than she), well put together face…

Blood.

Flora stared his hands. There was a blue fabric wrapped around them, but they were stained with a red color that looked an awful like blood.

This was impossible.

Robots didn't bleed blood.

She bent down and picked up a hand. That was blood.

And the hand was warm.

Her eyes widened and she dropped the hand, scuttling back on her elbows.

This wasn't a robot.

This was a human.

Whose name was neither Violet nor Hershel Layton.

"Flora!" Someone was calling for her, it was faint, and felt so far away right now…

"Flora! Start the lift!" Wait…this voice was the professor's!

Snapping from her stupor, Flora leapt to her feet and bolted out the door, stopping only to lock the door behind her. She tore up the stairs, bumping into Beatrice, the housekeeper ("In such a hurry dear?" "Sorry!") on the way. Finally, she reached the tenth floor entrance window. It was three times as large as the others and had a small balcony that could be lowered with a crank to the ground to bring in those outside. Flora herself had only ridden in it once, when she first entered the tower, but the professor frequently used it.

As she suspected, at the foot of the tower, the professor was waiting. He waved when he saw her.

"Professor! Professor!" she shouted excitedly. "There's—"

"I can't hear you too clearly right now, dear!" he shouted back. "Lower the balcony and we'll talk once I'm up!"

"Of course!" Flora rushed towards the lever and began to turn the crank with a greater speed than she had ever before. Layton had barely set both feet in the balcony before he was pulled upwards. Caught a bit unaware, he clung to the railings, stachel swinging wildly, and steadied his hat with a mumble of "oh my".

"Flora, dear," he said as he stepped into the tower, adjusting his hat, "don't you think that was a bit…hasty?"

"I'm sorry professor," Flora said quickly, wringing her hands, "but—"

"Hold that thought, I have a surprise for you," Layton said cheerfully, pulling a newspaper clipping from his satchel. "Look! They say that Professor Avogadro plans to appear at the Inventor's Fair this year."

"Avogadro?" Flora said, squicking a bit in her excitement. She took the clipping and read the article, smile growing on her face. "Ooh, this sounds wonderful!"

"Indeed," Layton mirrored Flora's grin, "Avogadro's unveilings never fail to disappoint. And since the fair is on your birthday this year…"

Flora's head snapped up from the newspaper. The professor couldn't be suggesting…could he…? She leaned forward, smile widening. "Yes?"

"I can go to the fair and write down everything that happens and be back home in time to give it to you for your birthday!" Layton finished triumphantly. "No need to wait for the newspapers this year!"

"O-oh," Flora muttered, wilting a bit. But she snapped back up immediately. "Actually professor, I was wondering if I could come with you to the fair this year."

Oh but of course, Flora! That's a wonderful idea!

Flora waited to hear those words. Surely, the professor would agree. She _was_ turning eighteen this year.

Instead, she watched the professor's face turn stony; hard and devoid of any warmth. He stared at her as one would stare at a bloodthirsty monster. "No," he said tersely.

"What?" Flora braced herself. "Why?"

The professor gulped and licked his lips, eyes darting to look anywhere but at her. "You can't. It-it's dangerous." The last word was sighed out, as though he were tired after speaking those few words.

"But _you'll_ be there to protect me!" Flora said, hoping he had simply forgotten that fact.

The professor's eyes fixed themselves on Flora, widening so that the normally black eyes appeared white. He paled again, face turning from stone to marble. "I can't protect you. Not from everything."

"It's only for one night professor. M-mother already agreed to let me go if you would come with me."

"Flora, _no_. We can't take the risk."

Flora reddened and rose her voice to a highly unladylike level. "And why not?" she shouted, hands balled into fists. "This is the only gift I want for my birthday and I'm sure one night won't kill me!"

"It's safe in the tower," the professor said soothingly.

"And it's safe enough out there! You'll be with me," remembering her encounter with the other human earlier, "and…and I'm not entirely helpless."

For the first time, the professor's stone visage slipped, and his eyes flashed, panicking, angry. "No! You _think_," he emphasized with a step forward, "you can do anything, you _think _you're safe, but the world doesn't work like you think it will, Flora! What do you think is out there? Do you have any idea how much dirt I have to dig through just to show you the little bit of good there is at all? Terrorists, thieves, killers; selfish people, Flora!"

"Professor, _please_," Flora begged desperately, "I just want to—"

"It doesn't matter what reasons you have for wanting to go out!" the professor shouted, louder than Flora had ever heard him. "You will never leave this tower Flora!" The girl drew back, blinking rapidly. "_Never_!"

Flora dropped her gaze. The professor looked away and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Flora."

She didn't hear that. Something was forming, vague but taking shape. It was absurd, stupid…but…but…

"Flora?" Layton said gently. "Is there anything else you would like for your birthday?"

This was absurd. Completely dishonest. But it wouldn't go away.

She licked her lips nervously, and then, before she lost her determination completely, "A doll."

"A doll?"

"Yes…the one I saw in your room once," she said. "You know, the cow…the clockwork cow. It's…it's cute and you wouldn't let me take it apart before, so I was wondering if I could have one of my own."

Layton gave a breath of relief. "Well now, I think I can arrange that," he said, smiling a bit. "But Flora, I can only buy that in Dropstone, and that's a three day's journey there and back. Your birthday is the day after tomorrow."

She had already gone this far. "That's okay, professor! We can celebrate a little later. I can wait for the newpapers too! You can bring back the news with you on your way back from Dropstone," Flora said enthusiastically. "It'll be two great gifts at once! And I'll bake a cake."

"I-I'll buy a cake, dear," he corrected quickly.

"Alright then," she agreed. "You'll buy a cake."

There was a pause as Layton considered this. "I suppose…I could leave first thing in the morning. I'll try to hurry, after all, your birthday only comes once a year!" he beamed.

"Thank you, professor," Flora said, hugging him.

"I really am sorry, dear," he said, returning her hug. "But…"

"I know, it's dangerous."

"Well then," Layton released Flora, "I suppose I'll head down to the kitchens and help get dinner started. "Is there anything in particular you would like to eat?"

"Oh, no, nothing."

"Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, dear."

"Yes professor."

With one last smile, the professor went down the stairs.

"Flora?" a voice said softly.

Surprised, the girl turned.

It was Violet. "Mother!" she cried, rushing over. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Violet smiled weakly and let Flora lead her back to her room. "I heard you and the professor arguing."

"O-oh," Flora muttered, turning red.

"I'm sorry you can't go."

"It's fine, it's fine!" Flora set her mother back in the bed and waved her hands before her dismissively. "I-I'm alright."

"…alright then."

"Rest a bit mother," Flora said, putting on her own motherly tone as she left the room. "That walk must've taken a lot out of you! I'll bring you up dinner in a hour!"

She closed the door behind her.

A sigh.

It worked. It worked.

The next step was by far more foolish and would completely give her guardians even more reasons to keep her in the tower…but this was her last chance.

* * *

><p>When the young man woke again, he felt <em>somebody's<em> hand moving in his jacket pocket.

His eyes were wide open in a second and he jerked his head up with equal alacrity, sending waves of nausea and pain throughout his body due to his previous head-injury. Ignoring this, "Let that go!" he snapped.

Whoever it was gave a small "eep!" and drew back. With the pouch filled with the plans in hand.

"Give that back," he growled, trying to lunge forward only to find that he was bound to chair with his hands tied behind his back.

The perpertrator had jumped back several feet and was biting her lip, the pouch swaying in her hand. Several lamps arranged around the area casted enough light for him to see the girl's features.

It was the same girl he had glimpsed before he went unconsious, he realized. She didn't look very old, perhaps several years younger than him. Curly brown hair, tied back, and a pretty face and neck that he currently really wished he had slit.

"Err," the girl hesitated, "is this important to you?"

"No shit."

The girl flinched. "There's no need to be rude!" she said huffily.

Rude? "Rude? You know what's rude?" he hissed. "Giving people concussions and tying them to chairs!"

"I-I was bandaging your hands!" the girl protested.

The young man took a moment to feel the palms and was pleasantly surprised to find that they had indeed been cleaned and bandaged. "Well isn't that nice."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, but you know what would've been nicer?"

"…"

"_Not_ giving me a concussion and stopping the bandages at the hands!" He pulled at his binds again. "I _think_ that you went a bit overboard, don't you?" he chirped with a cheery smile.

"Well…I suppose that _was_ rather rude," the girl admitted, flushing a salmon pink. "I completely forgot the manners the professor taught me. B-but," she looked at him as if appealing for forgiveness, "you surprised me!"

"So your first reaction," the young man said dryly, "is to hit me with…with…"

"A toolbox," the girl mumbled, burying her baking face into her hands. "You're right, being surprised is no excuse. A true lady must always keep her head clear and level!" Raising her face from her hands, she took a deep breath. "Okay."

The young man gaped as the girl dipped into a perfect curtsy, complete with the skirt pull. "Good evening," she said with a friendly smile. "My name is Flora, pleased to make your acquintance."

The young man stared, blinking slowly and unable to force any sound to come out of his mouth. One second the girl was attacking him and the next she was primly introducing herself as though they were at a dinner party. His suspicions were confirmed; the inhabitant of this tower _was_ the most eccentric person he had ever met.

"…the gentlemanly thing to do would be to answer," Flora suggested.

"G-g-ge-_gentlemanly_?" he spluttered incredulously. "_Gentlemanly_?" The whole affair was so ridiculous that the young man began to laugh a laugh that cresendoed until it rang off the walls of the room.

"Please be quiet!" Flora shushed, rushing forward to clamp a hand on the young man's mouth. "No one else knows you're in here right now."

The young man jerked his head away from the hand and glared. "What do you mean?"

"I…I didn't tell anybody else about you," Flora muttered, twiddling her fingers. "I thought that the professor would've done something drastic. This place isn't exactly easy to find, so he would've been shocked to find you here." She stopped twiddling her fingers and gazed at the young man quizically. "How _did_ you find this place anyways?"

For the first time since he had woken up, tied to a chair, the young man didn't answer immediately. He was silent; no snaps, no outbursts. He weighed his choices.

As things were, how he dealt with this girl would determine everything.

She seemed rather intent on the whole gentleman thing, and it wasn't as though he _couldn't_ act the part. He supposed he could humor her and wheedle the plans back…

"It was an accident," the young man said, surprising the girl with a tone of voice that was much gentler than any of his previously. "I had wanted to rest a bit and leaned against part of the cliff and I tumbled into a small cave hidden by the ivy. Then when I leaned against the rock inside…well, I suppose you know what happened." Sure, that skipped a lot of things, but he wasn't sure how much the girl knew about the world outside and if she had ever heard of him, he sure wasn't about to help her remember that he was a wanted criminal.

"Then that must mean you solved this week's puzzle!" Flora said gleefully, clapping her hands together. "I came up with it myself! What did you think of it?"

It was the worse puzzle he had ever heard of. "It was…uh…interesting."

"Oh…" She frowned, a bit disappointed with his lackluster response. "What happened to your hands anyways? And your clothes…"

"I fell into the river while I was trying to cross it," he replied smoothly. There, that was true too.

"I see…um…what did you say your name was again?"

The young man hesitated again. "Klaus Triton," he finally said, albeit reluctantly. If she had heard of it before, it would not end well.

"Klaus Triton…?" she tapped her chin thoughtfully with a finger. The young man licked his lips nervously. "That's a nice name." He barely restrained a relieved sigh.

"Now that we are introduced, miss, may I ask you to unbind me from this chair?" he asked politely, flashing Flora a charming smile.

"Well…" She avoided his gaze, rubbing the back of nerk awkwardly. "I…I suppose…wait." Flora pursed her lips and leaned closer. "Just one more thing. I apologize in advance because this is highly unladylike and impolite." Without another word, she shoved her hands into his jacket pocket again.

Forgetting all intents of propriety, Klaus tried to take a snap at her hands. Startled, the girl quickly withdrew her hands, eyes wide, but not before taking the handgun with her. This girl had excellent qualities for a thief, he thought grimly. "Give. That. Back," he said through gritted teeth. She stared at him, pale faced and horrified.

"You tried to _bite_ me."

"You're _stealing_ from me," he retorted angrily. It was ironic really; the thief was being robbed.

"That's still no reason to be so utterly…I don't even have a word strong enough for what you tried!" she whispered heatedly, running a hand through her hair.

"You obviously don't get out much, then, if you're shocked by something as little as _that_," he sneered, no longer caring about how the girl felt.

Flora flushed again, embarassed and annoyed. "I know that I don't get out much, thank you," she replied curtly and turned her attention to the handgun. Her expression brightened immediately, the glow from her face changing its source from anger to genuine enjoyment. "This is the new wheellock model, isn't it?" she squealed, as though she were a child staring at a new toy. "First gun that can be hidden effectively, I heard. Oh, this is—" She broke off suddenly, and turned her attention to Klaus again with renewed worry. "…why do you have this?"

"Use your imagination."

"I'll assume self-defense then."

"How kind of you."

And removing a few screwdrivers and pliers from a nearby toolbox, Flora began to dismantle the gun.

"I retract my previous statement!" he gawked, and then snapping from his stupor, tried futilely to lunge forward once more. Flora ignored him for a few more seconds and then set the pieces of the gun onto the pile of books beside her. "Put that back together!" he demanded, struggling until the chair legs banged against the floor.

"Shh!" Her face was pleading. "Everyone is asleep but please don't wake them."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't raise hell in here," he said, dropping his voice nonetheless and ceasing his movements.

"Because…because," she girl gulped, hands once more waving randomly in the air, "I-I don't want you to get thrown out, and I _know_ that you will be if anyone else finds out."

"And why do you want me to stay?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Flora gulped again. "I…I need you." Klaus stared. "For my plan," she added quickly. "I'm sorry, that was poorly phrased."

"What plan?"

"I want to leave the tower. Only for a few days, though!" she appended before he could say a word. "To…err…see the Inventor's Fair."

"Ask someone else to take you," he said.

"I tried!" Flora said, exasperated. "But they all said that it was too dangerous…"

Klaus snorted. "Well from certain perspectives, Mystere is quite the hell-hole at the moment, yes."

"I don't care."

"You're an idiot," he said, darkening, "if you think that you're invincible. You really don't know what it's like. Personally, I would give anything to be as ignorant as you are right now." His face split into a sardonic grin.

"I don't think I'm invincible," Flora said stiffly. "I know that I'm weak. But I have to go."

"Why?"

"I'll promise I'll let you go, with the pouch, if you take me," she said, completely ignoring the question.

"I asked _why_."

She didn't reply, and Klaus sighed.

There was silence again. Flora stood, rigid, staring at the young man as he considered her offer. Finally, he turned his gaze back to her and tilted his head. "How do you know that I won't just grab the pouch and run off? Do you really trust me that much?" Because I really wouldn't if I were you, he added to himself silently.

Flora pursed her lips. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this…but this," she motioned towards the pouch, "_is_ important to you, right?"

"What do you think?"

She sighed. Then, "Gear! Come here."

There was a quiet whirring that came closer and closer. Confused, Klaus turned his head towards the direction of the sound.

It was a bird. Closer. A _mechanical_ bird. "Is that clockwork?" he asked, pitch several notches higher.

"Oh yes," the girl said brightly. "My first creation!"

"_Your_ creation?"

Flora opened her mouth, as though to reply, but at the last second, decided against it and turned to the clockwork creature. "Gear," she commanded, "open your mouth."

Klaus watched amazed as the robot bird obeyed and opened its beak.

He watched in horror as the girl threw the pouch into the bird's beak.

"Don't make too much noise or I'll tell Gear to shred it," Flora said before the scream could make its way up his throat. "I might not be able to trust you, but I trust how much you care about this pouch and whatever's inside of it."

He wanted to _kill_ her. This damnable girl! He gnashed his teeth to calm the murderous rage the threatened to burst from him like a volcano. He imagined her mangled and bloody to calm himself.

"Hardly ladylike, threatening me like that," he finally managed, deathly quiet.

Flora looked down, ashamed. "I have no choice." She met his glare determinedly. "I'll loose you from the chair, _if_ you promise to take me to the Inventor's Fair in Mystere's Castletown. And if you so much as _attempt_ to go for Gear, he will shred whatever's in the pouch immediately." She shifted her gaze to the clockwork bird to add, "Gear, shred the pouch if he tries to capture you or if it seems that I'm being threatened to tell you to remove the pouch. Understand?" Gear gave a little chirp, as if in affirmation. Flora returned her attention to Klaus. "So then, do you accept?"

He didn't know if the bird could shred the pouch or not, but he wasn't about to take his chances.

"…you have a deal."

* * *

><p>AN: Whew! There.


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